BRAINSTORM

by Gordon Kessler

  I scanned forward on the file and came to a part where the assistant was paging through a Time magazine laid in front of me. To the side were stacks of Sports Illustrateds, Readers’ Digests, Wall Street Journals, New York Times', Denver Posts, and even Gold Rush Gazettes.

  I glanced over my shoulder to Yumi. “This is unreal.”

  “I will give you a quick overview in simple terms about memory. The human memory can be divided into two basic types: implicit and explicit. Implicit memory is of common daily chores such as tying your shoes, walking, swimming and running, using a fork to eat mashed potatoes and a spoon for soup. It also contains identification of traffic signs, types of plants and animals, et cetera. However, no memory of specific people, faces or experiences exists there.

  “Those memories are held in the explicit part of the mind. They are like old movie reels. They easily deteriorate, crack and discolor. In a normal mind, they’re stored as movie film in a salt mine, sealed and protected so they last longer. These memories have been deteriorated, through a variety of what you might call brainwashing techniques—use of drugs and hypnotism. Your explicit memory has been erased. Such a thorough cleaning was necessary as actually to affect a small part of your implicit memories and that is why those memories were fortified with the sensory portion of your programming.

  “At the same time, you may have experienced brief reminiscences of your own true past coming to you as flashbacks. Those pieces of memories that were for some reason not erased by the drugs and hypnotic suggestion were mostly overwritten. If these fragments come to you, they will be like the cracked and distorted film, fuzzy around the edges, yellowed so badly they’re barely discernable. They will most likely happen as dreams or separations from reality that you will not find credible due to the stronger memories which have been implanted or programmed over them—replacing them.

  “However, some fragments of your true past might have been ingrained too strongly to destroy, due to traumatic experiences you may have had. These memories might flash like lightning through your thoughts.

  “For Xiang’s purposes, we wanted to make you as much of an average American as we could. That way, you would not rouse suspicion when you were let out among others of your kind. You did not need to think like a terrorist, or a sniper, or a warrior. There would be no reason and no evidence you did the things we would have you do. Nor would there be a way to trace you or your deeds back to us. And with the Brainstorm project in place and fully operating, anyone in the way would soon perish and only those who were thought beneficial would be in positions of power.”

  I selected the file called Clean.

  It showed a man sitting in a metal chair again. This time, he was completely naked and unconscious.

  Harvey said, Now, this guy is definitely you.

  I frowned, looking closer. Harvey was correct, at least, it did look like me.

  In the video a man in a blue lab coat jabbed a hypodermic needle into my arm. I rolled my head and slowly my eyes fluttered open. Still in the video, the lights in the room dimmed and Dr. Xiang stepped into view. He held a small flashlight and shined it into my eyes. Dr. Xiang began speaking softly. He gave his hypnotic suggestions. He instructed the terms of allegiance with me, in a familiar, gentle tone. He made me repeat, “True blue, trust them, do,” and “We’re lucky to have such a caring doctor, don’t you think?”

  Another file directly following the one I’d just viewed was labeled UnexpectedInteraction. This one was oddly out of place, and its contents piqued my curiosity.

  Inside the file, it showed me still in a white hospital gown while sitting in a chair. My head was still bandaged, but my face was no longer bruised. At my feet, a small animal skittered around. It stopped by my slipper and sniffed at me. It was a gerbil. Even though in the apparent vegetative state I was in, my eyes shifted downward to the small mammal. The scene cut to a new one of me eating. As I ate in a somber robot fashion like the rest of the blanks, I stuffed a cracker into my pocket.

  In the next scene, I was back at the chair, bandage no longer on my shaved head. The gerbil was below me on the floor. I slowly reached for my pocket and pulled out the cracker. Without apparent emotion or facial expression, I broke the cracker into small pieces and dropped it at my feet. The gerbil had a feast.

  The progression of the relationship between Mickey Gerbil and me was recorded in six scenes that proceeded. The camera apparently followed our contact throughout my time of programming. In the last scene, my hair had grown out and the rodent was on my thigh, resting back on its haunches while munching on a piece of cracker, and I was smiling.

  “This was unusual,” Yumi said. “We found this interaction extremely interesting, exceptional. You were the only one who had any sort of mental reaction outside of the programming. That is why the gerbil became an important tool later.” Yumi pointed to a file.

  I clicked on it. The subfolder PracticalApplication, Initial.avi seemed blank. After a few seconds, a light came on to a split-screen scene I recognized as my bedroom and master bathroom. The time in the upper right hand corner said 06:00 AM.

  In the video, a woman I did not recognize entered the unoccupied bedroom. She wore a blue jumpsuit and carried a linen-filled basket to the foot of the coverless bed. She pulled a sheet from the basket and spread it on the bed. Soon several other people entered the bedroom, one pushing a wheeled coat rod filled with clothes on hangers, one with a hand truck loaded with shoeboxes. One came in with several bags, went to the dresser and began loading the drawers with socks and underwear.

  Dr. Yumi then appeared in the doorway, stepped to one side and seemed to be supervising. A woman came in carrying a basket and went to the bathroom, a man following with arms loaded with towels. As they finished in the bathroom, I was surprised to see Chief Dailey pop in. Yumi handed him something very small as he walked by. He went into the bathroom, took a bar of soap from the woman there. As the other two left, Dailey went directly to the shower. He unwrapped the soap, tossed the wrapper into the trash and looked about himself. After a pause, he stepped into the stall and with both hands carefully placed the soap into the shower caddy, then slipped something underneath it that I would have bet was what he’d just gotten from Yumi—the hastily scribed note I’d found under the bar. He went to the linen closet and took something from his pocket that looked like a small pouch. This time, what he held with both hands squirmed wildly. He set the pouch inside on the towels and opened it. Out came a small animal. Due to the distance from the camera, it wasn’t obvious, but I was sure it was Mickey.

  When Dailey left, Michelle came with another woman who assisted her in undressing. Michelle sat down naked at the make-up table and her assistant used a spray bottle to mist her back. After Michelle’s assistant left, two men brought a gurney in, with me on it. They carefully lifted me into place on the bed as Yumi watched. After they departed, Yumi checked her watch, stepped to the bedside, pulled a hypodermic from her lab coat and injected it into my neck. As my head slowly moved from side to side, Yumi stepped away and left through the doorway.

  Yumi said, “Those of us who were against the Brainstorm project did what we could to give you hints, things that would make you pause for thought. However, we were being watched as well as you were, so any suspicious movements in your home could have been scrutinized.

  “Fortunately, while this was being recorded, Dr. Xiang was waiting outside the house and not viewing. The technician in the control room who did have access, was one of my people. Do you remember the new toothpaste tube and toothbrush, the new soap? Normally, we would have left partially used props. We did not spritz the shower, only Michelle’s back. We did not scuff the shoes, we did not use laundered clothes, as was the usual case. Chief Dailey even left the gerbil you befriended when your mind should have been completely blank. We found an unusual amount of willpower in you, thoughts and memories too deeply ingrained to destroy. Xiang was excited about your potential.”

  An alarm went off fr
om the hallway that took our attention from the computer monitor. It reminded me of a submarine dive alarm, and a voice came over the intercom speaker in the viewing room we occupied.

  “Security alert!” the voice said in a loud but calm voice. “Security alert! All essential personnel, report to the control center immediately!” The call repeated twice.

  “I must go,” Yumi said. “And you must return to the morgue and wait.”

  She removed a cell phone from her lab coat pocket and punched two keys. “This is Yumi, Dr. Xiang.” She glanced at me and motioned toward the door with her pistol.

  I got up but must have been moving too slowly for her because she waved the gun toward the door three more times, quickly.

  “Yes, Doctor,” she said over the phone. “I’ll be there immediately.” She pushed a button and dropped the phone back into her pocket. I slipped the helmet back on, and as I placed my hand on the doorknob, she said, “I must leave now. Essential personnel are evacuating.”

  I stepped away from the door and motioned for her to go first. “That’s good. I’ll be left home alone—to do what I need to do.”

  “Not exactly. Dr. Xiang and his core of scientists and technicians are leaving. That includes me. However, the guards, many of the doctors, assistants, patients and other personnel will be left behind to die when the bombs go off. They have no idea. I would guess at least a thousand people at Biotronics alone. The nuclear device in town will ensure the deaths of over four thousand there.”

  “My God! How can we stop the nukes?”

  “Impossible. The one at this facility is buried in fifty feet of concrete. Dr. Xiang has already remotely started the timer and it is irreversible.”

  “What can we do?”

  “For them, nothing. There is no way to get them all out in time. The devices are set to go off at sunrise, 05:46 this morning, five seconds apart. You have until then to find safe distance from the blast. Your helicopter is your only answer. I can no longer baby-sit you. You know the situation. You are now on your own.”

  In the swirl of her lab coat, and without the chance for further protest, Yumi left through the door.

  Chapter 29

  When I reentered the hallway, I placed my goggles over my eyes and walked guardedly back toward the morgue. I hoped Sunny would be awake, and between us we could figure out what to do about Gold Rush and Biotronics. Twenty feet from the morgue, a voice came from behind me.

  “Security.”

  Harvey said, Oh, shit! and I cringed inwardly. The voice sounded like Xiang’s. I kept going.

  The voice rose. “Security!”

  I stopped five feet from my destination.

  “Come here!”

  I turned slowly, but realized I needed to look the part I was playing or things would unravel very rapidly. I stepped quickly toward Xiang. He waited in front of the elevator next to two cabinets on wheels. Mike Wu stood next to him.

  As I approached, I nervously checked my copper-tinted goggles to make sure they were in place. They were. I tried to walk as militarily as possible to him and at five feet away, I stopped and stood at attention.

  Dr. Xiang said to Mike Wu, “Take these files to the truck. It’s waiting in the tunnel.”

  Tunnel? Harvey asked. There’s a tunnel? I wondered where it led.

  Dr. Xiang continued, “I’ll get Dr. Yumi, and we’ll bring the last two.” He turned to me. “Help Colonel Wu with these carts.”

  Colonel Wu, Harvey repeated. From captain of the high-school debating team to colonel—quite a jump.

  Why would they need a colonel at a newspaper? He’d worked at the Gold Mine Gazette since high school. Worked his way up to senior editor. In my reprogrammed mind he was no colonel, and his new title did not create new respect. He’d gotten a two-year degree as I had from Summit County Community College. His associates’ degree was in journalism. He’d never been in the military.

  The elevator doors opened, Dr. Xiang left down the hall, and I got behind one of the carts. I pushed it onto the elevator behind Mike Wu’s lead. I went to the back of the elevator car as the doors closed, and I tried to stay behind Wu. He took out a key and opened a small compartment above the elevator control buttons, which said Authorized Personnel Only. Inside were several additional buttons labeled Sub Floor 2 through Sub Floor 5. He poked Sub Floor 2. We were going to a level below the basement of the building.

  Wu didn’t speak to me, but he looked over his shoulder a couple of times. The second time I noticed he was looking at my name badge, the one that gave the name of the dead security guard.

  He watched the elevator doors as we descended, and I could tell he was thinking about me. He knew something was up, I was certain, and I could feel my head getting warm inside my helmet. I felt pressure at the back of my skull, and it pulsed to my temples. A low hum began, and the helmet vibrated.

  As the elevator made sub floor two, Mike Wu turned around to face me. His stare was wild and intense. I’d been found out. Moreover, not only was I endangered, but also Sunny and as well, Dr. Yumi for not killing us.

  The pressure inside my skull increased to the point of extreme pain, and I began panting. The copper-tinted goggles in front of my eyes started to glow. The hum turned into a roar, the vibrations becoming shakes and even our elevator car shuddered as the door opened. When the ballistic-resistant plastic shell of the helmet cracked, I could take no more. I yanked the helmet off and struck Wu with it in one motion. He caught most of the force when he defensively brought his hands up to his face, but still he fell through the open elevator doorway and onto the floor outside. I shoved the two carts from the elevator, and they toppled onto him, as I jabbed the first floor button.

  While the elevator doors closed, Wu was struggling to get out from underneath one of the heavy carts, and he yelled, “I’ll get you! You’re nothing compared to me. Your ass is mine, Weller!”

  Harvey said, Your magic sucks, ours rules! and my imaginary ally gave Wu the raspberry.

  As the elevator ascended, I fell back against the corner of the car and struggled for breath. Still on the floor of the elevator lay my helmet liner, exposed and separated from the cracked helmet shell. The liner was like some sort of copper fabric—thin, woven copper wire. I deduced the importance of the things. As Yumi had said, the copper stopped whatever kind of energy I exuded, the electrical field. It protected the brain of whoever wore it. In my case, it had contained the energy and turned it into something like a microwave oven on my brain. Between my power and Mike Wu’s equal or perhaps greater power, I’d nearly fried my own mind.

  I knew Wu would be right behind me, either taking the stairs or another elevator. He’d most likely come with an entourage of security guards.

  I decided I’d do my best to avoid Wu and at the same time search for my son and Sunny’s husband, Daniel McMaster. Maybe I could somehow outwit Wu, incapacitate him, stop him in some manner at the same time. For now, I would check on Sunny on the first floor, then head directly to the children’s ward on floor two.

  When the elevator door opened to the first floor, I pushed the number five button. After I stepped off, the elevator doors closed, and it began its ascent to the facility’s top floor. A clamor came from the stairway opposite the elevator, but instead of ducking into the morgue, I flattened into a small alcove ten yards down. I didn’t dare risk Wu seeing me going back into the morgue—for him to come after me and find Sunny still alive.

  * * *

  Mike Wu and five security guards busted through the stairway door and stopped in front of the ascending elevator. Mike, at six foot one, was taller than the others, probably all under five foot nine. They jerked their heads in both directions, and I ducked back into the recess enough, I hoped, to observe them unseen. Wu watched the elevator floor lights above the entryway. When he saw the elevator had stopped on the fifth floor, he told three of the men to search the first floor, and he took the other two with him to the stairway, bound for the floors above.

&nb
sp; The first door the three security guards rushed into was the lab. Three doors down from it was the morgue and Sunny.

  I shoved from the wall of the alcove and raced down the hall, not slowing down to notice if they’d seen me running past the open lab door. Luckily, no one popped out of the lab. I figured they were still checking in cabinets, wall lockers and closets, and under tables where they thought I might be hiding.

  I entered the morgue quietly to find Sunny awake, but still on the table. She looked at me groggily, her arms reaching out. I went to her and gave her a brief hug.

  “They’re coming—three of them, and there’ll be more. They’re going to kill us this time. I can’t stop them, I’m unarmed and they’re wearing protective helmets.”

  Sunny frowned at me. “You can stop them, Superman. There’s good reason for your nickname. You were always resourceful. You could figure your way out of anything, solve any puzzle. There’s a way—you just have to think.”

  I remembered how the guy wearing the suit in the Acquire video—me—fought the four men. If only I could regain that kind of fighting knowledge, if somehow it would come back as second nature. Yet the men pursuing us now were armed and planned to kill us, not capture us. They could stand back and shoot without having to get close enough for me to have a chance to fight them.

  Then, I remembered Sunny’s gun. The guard who was wearing the very fatigues I now wore had stashed it in one of his front pockets. When I slipped my hand inside, I was surprised to find the small pistol still there, and I handed it to Sunny. She checked the chamber and magazine.

  “Only two rounds left,” she said. She looked at me with eyes full of worry. “I need you, Superman. You need to come out of this haze you’re in and shine like you used to.”

  This haze she spoke of was more of a soup-thick fog inside my head. However, I knew it was now totally up to me to keep us alive for the next few minutes, to save Will, to save Sunny’s husband, and to save the thousands of innocent people of Gold Rush.